Caught in the Spider's Web
by CrazySuperHeroine
Summary: 'Why didn't he come? I've sent him invitations, texts and calls, but he wasn't there! Why! My intoxicated mind screamed, not coming to terms with the truth that had hung around for the past two months. He left.' - Happy ending, I promise.


Music blared loudly, the vibrations from the stereo in sync with the swaying of bodies in front of me. Colourful lights flashed across the floor, lighting up the sweat on the faces of the dancers, their movements those of typical drunk teenagers. Some were making out, grinding on each other, whereas others look like they were going to fuck right in the midst of the activity.

I leaned against the backdoor, my mind numb from slight intoxication. I glanced around the room and frowned, my eyes unable to pinpoint the person I was looking for. The person I hoped was going to show up so I could talk things out with him.

"Hey, Kend-urr!" One of my guests approached me, a red cup in her hand. Her brown hair was a mess, her brown eyes glazed and lipstick smeared all over her lips. I grabbed her arm as she stumbled, helping her straighten herself out. "Congratulations, duuude. That song you released was so gooood. Was it about, you know, _him_?"

I smiled back at her awkwardly, avoiding the question, and released the grip I had on her. She winked at me and turned away as though never wanting to hear the answer in the first place, her steps wobbly. "Thanks, Camille," I managed to utter before the brunette disappeared into the crowd again. I looked down at my empty cup and chucked it aside with a sigh.

It didn't feel right being here on my own, supposedly to bask in the success of my new single. Especially since the song would have never came about without the consistent haunt of someone in my memories and dreams.

I pushed past the heavy masses of people to find my producer, informing him that I was going to turn in early this time with the excuse that I '_had been overworked_'. Not that I needed it; the overweight man was too intoxicated to even come up with a proper sentence to dismiss me.

I silently crawled my way out of the crowded club, sighing in relief as the cold breeze brushed against my red cheeks. For a moment, I regretted wearing just a plain t-shirt, arms wrapped around my torso as my teeth chattered from the chills.

I trudged down the empty pavement carefully, like a prey in hiding, seeing as how I wasn't wasted but I had enough to cause blurriness to my vision. Sounds of car engines whizzing past barely affected me, the flickering of some lampposts illuminating my path home, as I grasped on tall, silver poles to keep my balance.

With each step I took, I could feel the walls surrounding my heart crumble but I couldn't bring myself to stop, not until I was home. By the time I reached the front door of my apartment, tears had begun streaming past my cheeks and I wiped them away in frustration, cursing myself for my weak resolve. I fell to the ground the second I stepped in, sobs wracking through my body defiantly.

_Why didn't he come? I've sent him invitations, texts and calls, but he wasn't there! Why!_ My intoxicated mind screamed, not coming to terms with the truth that had hung around for the past two months.

_He_ left.

I couldn't remember what led up to it, what we said or did, that made him turn his back on me. I couldn't remember _anything_, not until after the front door slammed shut and his footsteps moved further away, my heart stringing along with him; only when the sound echoed into silence that the tendons latching me to him snapped.

Maybe it had something to do with our egos, his short temper or my obliviousness. I didn't understand; we used to argue all the time, about minor things mostly, ever since we moved in together. He'd never just up and leave, even if it was about something huge and controversial. We would just kiss and make up, burying the issue under the rug.

The images flashed on the blackness beneath my eyelids; myself rushing out the door, panting and crying out my lover's name as I ran down the streets in front of our apartment, my green eyes misted from the tears that threatened to spill when he was nowhere in sight. By the time I managed to bring myself to go back into the house, it was already five the next morning. My shaky hands gripped my phone tightly as the call tone went on unanswered, and dropping the device when I walked into our bedroom to find that majority of his clothes were no longer hanging in the cupboard.

Every hope, dream and wish I had for him to return imploded right there and then, into tiny pieces of glass that would remain unrepairable until the end of time. That day, I locked myself in, burying myself under the sheets where his scent still remained and drowned myself in my own sorrow. Broken, that was how I felt, and I had no desire of putting myself back together.

It was due to this that I didn't have the proper words to express myself, my mind refusing to think of anything except my shattered heart. We used to joke about how my songs are like personal diaries, knowing somewhere within the lyrics was a quote of what someone would tell me or an action that inspired me. Only now do I realise that with each word strung together during the creation of a perfect harmony, I've managed to entangle myself in a spider's web.

And the only way out of it is to be eaten.

I pulled my drunk ass off the floor and dragged myself into the bedroom, nearly tripping over the clothes laying around from my lack of enthusiasm to clean the house, partially also because of the workload I had prior to releasing my new single.

I threw myself onto the messy bed, curling my body in like an infant trying to sleep. My fingers clutched at one of the stray t-shirts amidst the folds of the comforter, bringing it close to my chest as though it was a lifeline. Muffling my cries to avoid my curious neighbour's from sticking their nose into my business, I stained my ex-boyfriend's shirt with what remained of my emotions.

I was heaving, completely dried out from tears, and my eyes began to droop, from a combination of lack of sleep, fatigue and emotional distress. I was close to giving in to the urge to get some sleep, telling myself lies like it was all just a dream- that when I wake up, he's going to be right next to me again with his muscled arms wrapped around my smaller frame, crushing me against his chest to the extent that I could barely breathe, but appreciated the comfortable warmth only he was able to provide.

Just as I was slipping into the safe haven away from my own deranged mind, short yet sharp rapping echoed within the walls of the house. I cursed at the irritant disrupting my moment, knowing that there was no way I would be able to fall asleep after this. It almost felt like this was my punishment, to remain helpless and exhausted for the rest of my life with no chance of closure. A few minutes passed and the knocking ceased, but I was already wide awake and battling the inner turmoil happening in my body.

With a groan, I shifted until I was hunched over on my knees, rubbing the wetness from my cheeks and inhaled deeply. I needed to get a grip. The press were going to have a field day if I turned up a wreck for tomorrow's conference, and I knew Gustavo didn't want to deal with that crap a second time.

I wriggled my way across the bed, freezing cold jolting up my spine as the tips of my toes touched the floor. A few struggling minutes later, I found myself sitting at the edge of the mattress with my head in my hands and a lump rising up my throat, my thoughts swirling around the man who was everything to me.

However, before I unconsciously threw myself down a path similar to a hellhole, the bedroom door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thump. I opened my mouth to tell the stranger off about chipping the concrete but words failed to form as I looked at the intruder, my eyes focused on the revealing a sweet-smelling bouquet of white roses, standing out against the darkness of the whole apartment. It took me a while before the silhouette behind the flowers caught my eye.

My uninvited visitor moved, flipping the switch by the door nonchalantly, as though he owned the place. The light burst, causing me to cringe at the brightness that illuminated every nook and cranny of my bedroom. His broad shoulders caught my attention first once the power of sight was returned to me. His body was covered by jeans and an emerald green button up shirt. My eyes ascended, drinking in the unbelievable view. Then flowers were lowered.

The tails of his brown hair, combed back neatly, were touching the back of his neck, matted down with gel. Then I noticed the small shy smile gracing his thin lips. I had the look of surprise, my heart hammering against my ribcage, my tongue dry. It couldn't be him.

Finally, the burst of brown and green enclosed beneath the watery orbs of his eyes connected with mine, displaying an emotion that I was absolutely positive could be seen in my emerald eyes as well, and the hand wrapped around the base of the plastic was extended to me, bringing the fluffy whiteness close to my face.

My breath hitched as tears, from where I didn't know, flowed. The man cleared his throat nervously as he sank to his knees in front of me, placing his free hand on the side of my face.

"Hi, love."

**A/N: This story is loosely based on Art of Moving On by Heffron Drive. I've had this gathering dust & bones on my laptop for far too long. I had this idea a few weeks after AOMO was released(sort of) on Youtube.**

**I say LOOSELY bc as much as AOMO was the inspiration & some parts of it came from the lyrics itself, I wasn't really thinking of the fic being a ART OF MOVING ON type of fic. Yeeeap.**

**Electrike is still in the works. I'm horrible, I know. I try. **

**I wrote this during my programming class; well, it was either write or die of boredom. #LifeOfaMultimediaStudent**


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